Read My Blog … Or I’ll Kill Your Dog

The other morning, I was making my infamous cup of gourmet coffee, still somewhat puffy eyed, and I was suddenly surprised to see a grasshopper in the inside sill of the kitchen window.  It’s an early October morning, so I was thinking he must have hopped on one of us yesterday … perhaps the dog, to get inside out of the cold.  I’m wasn’t sure really why, since it’s a relatively harmless little critter, the immediate sight of it somewhat shocked me.  I am not afraid of bugs and I’m the hero of the household when it comes to “killing the infiltrating hornet” or “smashing the trespassing spider” or whatever quest assigned to me from my wife … who for all accounts and purposes is utterly terrified of insects.  For the most part, I try to gather up the little breaching bugs and bring them outdoors where they are set free to potentially wreak havoc in someone else’s household … a last chance for them, if you will.  That particular morning, I realized that the life of that grasshopper was in dire jeopardy.  I remember considering trying to scoop it up with my hand and get him outside, but I was still half awake and if I missed, this guy was going to be jumping all over the place and I was going to make a ruckus in a quiet, peaceful and still sleeping household that would surely wake the other occupants.  My wife, daughter, and dog were all sleeping soundly and that’s the way I wanted to keep it.  On the other hand, if this critter wandered off … or I simply forgot about him … (you reach a certain age and your mind can start to … I forgot what I was going to say) … his fate was certainly doomed. You see … there is an assassin among us in this house.  She is silent and does not scream or announce her swat of death.  She is covert with lethal precision.  And if she saw this poor little insect inside the walls of her home, she would smash this bug without provocation, without remorse, without a glancing thought, and then I will be the one that has to remove the carnage. 

            My wife is a gentle, loving, and nurturing woman.  She is a wonderful mother and a loving wife.  She is tender, beautiful, and passive.  Except there is a dark side to my wife.  She is a super hero to some … to others … mostly in the insect world … she is an evil villain.  My wife has an alternate lifestyle.  She has been trained in the ancient arts of the Ninja.  She knows hundreds of ways to assassinate insects without cause, without provocation, without an ounce of consideration, and without a thought.  It must have taken years of training and conditioning for this woman to be as effective as she is.  She can assassinate a bug coming near her … not even really going in her direction … just near her and not even really notice that she just killed it … going on about her business as usual, while the dying bug writhes in the throes of death at her feet. 

            One day … not too long ago, my daughter, my wife, and I were in the back yard playing with our daughter’s toy golf set and I was trying to teach her the all important lessons of pars and teeing off and which club to use for which par.  I don’t even like golf, but it seemed important for me to teach her what I know about it.  My wife stood in the background and watched admirably as I fought to maintain the focus of the five-year-old with such stimulating techniques.  Suddenly, out of nowhere, a small, harmless dragonfly flew near my wife.  I’m not talking about the three to four inch variety of dragonfly that makes us all a little bit nervous when it invades our space with loud flapping wings and hovering to and fro in front of our face and over our heads annoyingly, I’m talking small.  Like maybe just over an inch … maybe an inch and a half.  He was just a little guy.  And he wasn’t flying at her.  He was flying by her.  But he made a mistake.  He flew into the international “Non-Fly Zone of The Ninja Bug Assassin.”  Also known as INFZNBA.  Without flinching … without even really looking, her arm extended out, swatted the crap out of the poor unsuspecting dragonfly… who for all we know was on his way home with a toy for his or her tots as he promised he would be … but as it ended up … not this day … not ever.  He fell to the ground immediately dazed and confused.  His wings were badly broken and his spine cracked in half.  He would never fly again.  But that didn’t matter because the assassin wasn’t finished yet.  The bug was still alive.  Without consideration of this bug or his loved ones, my wife, the Ninja Bug Assassin, lifted a foot and stomped on the poor bug.  I would love to say he was dead instantly and felt no pain … that his pain was brief and he died immedietely.  However, surprised as I was, my facial expression surely conveying that fact that I did not approve of the unnecessary slaughter I had just witnessed, I watched the long tail section of this bug curl and uncurl as it writhed in painful convulsions which led me to take my larger booted foot and disintegrate the insect to put us both out of our current miseries. 

            I looked at my wife.  I said nothing, but my expression surely spoke volumes.  
            “What?” she asked in defense of her action.  “It was coming at me.” 

            “No … it wasn’t,” I said shaking my head and reciting a brief eulogy for the deceased.

            “It might have,” she tried to convince me. 

            The most horrific aspect of the whole assassination was the child seeing the entire ordeal.  A future Ninja Bug Assassin already in training and not even realizing it.  I could see the sparkle in the young girl’s eyes looking at her mother with awe and admiration.   

            I try to show my daughter which bugs you can pick up and which ones you can’t.  Sometimes, I have learned new things about bugs myself.  Like ladybugs can actually bite you.  Don’t tell me otherwise because one of them little creeps did so once and I winced and said “OW!” to the utter shock and horror of my daughter.  She hasn’t picked up a ladybug since that day … and neither have I for that matter.  Probably another reason why she will become a skilled assassin like her mother. 

            The Ninja Bug Assassin style of killing does not exhibit the most choreographic executions to their intended target.  It’s not always the most graceful or pretty sights to witness.  Sometimes it can even be downright awkward.  It can involve hopping around on one leg, while screaming … or running around in circles ducking and rising repeatedly like a chicken … or swaying to and fro with both arms flailing in the air or repeatedly circling around the hair and head of the assassin … as if trying not to drown … with no body of water nearby.  Even a variety of these techniques can and will be used in many of the assassinations.  The results are always the same.  No matter what the poor bug does to escape the Ninja Bug Assassin, it winds up dead.  It cannot escape from the lethal clutches of the NBA. 

            After the assassination, my wife returns to her lifestyle as if nothing happened without conscience.  Almost as if humming a lullaby to herself it would seem.  The body of the unsuspecting target will be dead or dying at her feet, a mere afterthought before she decides what to make for dinner … or perhaps what she’ll wear to work tomorrow … or ponders whether to fold laundry or do the dishes first.  Something of that nature.

            That morning, I’m looked at that grasshopper and told it in a whisper trying not to be heard, to stay still.  I knew that I was going to forget to all about him when I was more awake and would have the speed needed to catch it and release it.  If I tried to before I was fully awake, I would certainly miss and be running and crashing and stomping all over the house to try to catch it before … it’s too late.  She would awaken, come out to see what the ruckus was all about … the grasshopper would mistakenly hop near her direction, and without a moment’s notice, even in her foggy state of emerging awakeness, she would strike with deadly results and the carcass of the grasshopper wouldbe squished against the fibers of the carpet and left for the “removal system” AKA … me to clean up the mess. 

            A happy ending that day, however, I’m glad to announce to all of you bug lovers out there.  I didn’t forget about the little guy.  Actually, okay … I forgot at first and I was in the office on the computer and heard my wife in the kitchen starting her cup of coffee and a bright amber warning light of memory flashed across the screen of my brain.  Oh my God, the grasshopper!  I must save his life!  I leapt up and without trying to raise too much suspicion went into the kitchen as if to kiss my wife good morning.  But the skills of the Ninja Bug Assassin go far beyond the actual executions to the unsuspecting targets.  She was dubious of my intent and anyone could tell her sonar, radar, and any other ar she uses was on immediate high alert. 

            “I have to get rid of a bug,” I confessed.  Honesty is the best policy, they say. 

            Ninja Bug Assassin Mode went into automatic overdrive.  She walked across the kitchen like Keanu Reeves in special effects of another Matrix film.  Slow motion, yet ready, willing, and able to strike the “blow of death” at any second. 

            “Where is it?” she challenged in a demonic voice not her own.

            “I’ll take care of it,” I promised.  Her eyes scoped the entire perimeter of the kitchen and I knew then, this grasshopper’s time on this good green earth was limited. 

            “Please, Honey,” I pleaded for the innocent bug’s life.  “I’ll take care of it.  Get me a net from Jadyn’s bedroom.”  She did without complaint.  I had to be on high alert. 

            After handing me the net, she retreated back to the safety of the dining room where she watched in silence and … almost what I think may have been a slight degree of melancholy that she was not going to have the opportunity to kill.  I scooped up the grasshopper and ran him outside before anything else could happen to him.  He must have felt the tension.  It was so thick inside, you could have cut it with a knife. 

            I tipped the net upside down and as he fell to the grass I could have sworn I heard him say … “Bless you, dear sir.”  I stuck a finger in my ear and wriggled it all around and went back inside.  But first I said, “You’re welcome, friend.”  It must have just been my imagination.

            All in a day’s work when you live among the Ninja Bug Assassin Association of America, or NBAAA … something our daughter is destined to join the ranks of. 

Jody L. Campbell